“I have no doubts the ice will hold the wagons, no doubts at all. It’s strong enough to hold anything.”
“In the middle of the river the current moves deep and fast, and the ice doesn’t get as thick as at the edges. I’m telling you, it won’t hold.”
“Line up the wagons and prepare to move. An empty wagon will go first, followed by the ones with food and supplies. After that, move the wagons with the men. If the ice should give way, it will happen before the men go out. Now move them onto the ice,” Katerina said forcefully.
Cautiously the empty wagon crossed the river. Katerina turned to Banyen and gave him a satisfied smile. Next, the food wagon eased over the ice. Once past the center of the river, the other bank in sight, the cook heaved a sigh of relief. The supply wagon followed. As it crossed the middle of the river, hairline cracks, invisible to the eye, started to form.
“Next,” called Katerina, ordering the wagons filled with the men to go. “Stay two wagon lengths behind each other. There is nothing to fear. You see how the ice holds. Remember, two lengths behind.”
As the wagons began to move, the guards on horseback trotted along. When they reached the middle of the river, the ice began to rumble. “The ice is cracking!” the prisoners shouted in unison.
All eyes were on the frozen river, watching as a horse in the first team lost its footing and fell to one knee, dragging down three other animals. As they fell, a loud thundering crack ripped through the air. The first load of prisoners reached the bank just as the ice behind them cracked and split asunder. The river’s mouth, wide open, swallowed the men, horses, and wagons into its mad, rushing, carnivorous depths.
The death cry of the men and horses clawed at everyone’s ears. As men and animals struggled to get out of the icy water, their screams tore at Banyen and Katerina. The Kat headed for the shattered ice, shouting for the others to try to save the men.
Banyen rushed after her, shouting. “No! You’ll only waste more lives. You can’t save those in the water. When it’s this cold they can only survive for a minute. Katerina, do you hear me? Only a minute. The men in the water are dead men. Let them go and save the others.”
Katerina stopped in her tracks. He was right.
“Get that sleigh and the other wagons off the ice quickly! Back them off carefully!” Banyen shouted, his voice full of authority.
Banyen could see apathy overtaking Katerina. She stood on the bank, helpless, motionless. Her head dropped down on her chest in defeat. He quickly grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the rescue party. “Katerina, there’s much to be done and we need everybody’s help. Take the reins and lead the horses onto the bank,” he ordered, trying to bring her back to her senses. “You had to let the men in the river go. I’m not coldhearted, but I’ve seen men drown in the rivers before in the winter. There’s nothing anyone can do, they die quickly. They don’t suffer. We have to help the living. Some of the men left hanging on the ice need a fire to dry their clothes and warm their bodies. The horses have to be dried, too. Then we must regroup and set up camp, for this day is lost.”
She was totally to blame, and he wouldn’t let her forget it, but now was not the time; he had to get her back to work. “Katerina, have your men start large fires. Do it!” he shouted, giving her a vicious shove. “The prisoners are looking at you, you’re their leader, give them their orders.”
Slowly she turned to the men and without emotion ordered them to make fires. Little by little she busied herself, until she gradually had worked off the lethargy.
Banyen was busy helping and directing. “You, guard, ride up the river and look for a shallow spot to get these four wagons across. When you find such a place, get back to me. I want to make camp on the other bank by nightfall.”
Darkness found them camped along the opposite bank, huddled around the fires, feeling the cold more piercingly this night than any other.
Katerina was furious with herself. Another day lost and it’s my fault. By the time we reach Volin, the snow will be falling and knee-deep on the ground. Each day counts, each day makes the trip to the Carpathians more difficult. The wagons will slow our progress as they slip and slide in the snow. Perhaps there’ll be some sleighs left in Volin and we can use them instead, she thought.
Banyen wanted to chastise her to her face, but he knew the wrong decision and the deaths of the men and horses were punishment enough. But when he could he would lash out at her, this Cossack girl, and teach her that stupid womanly pride had cost them time and lives. She would pay when the delay caught them in the heavy snows of the Carpathians.
Katerina called the cook and one other driver, and after supper that night they checked the remaining wagons and sleigh to make sure they weren’t damaged. She shook her head as they walked, muttering, “Four men, one wagon, one sleigh, and four horses lost on the mountain. Now two more wagons, eight horses . . . a total of ten guards with their horses and thirty-five prisoners, all dead.” The men walking with her heard her but said nothing. Everything looked in order. She prayed silently that the rest of the journey would be accomplished without the loss of more lives. From here to Volin the land was level, the glorious flat steppe. The only enemy left to fight would be the heavy accumulation of snow between Volin and the House of the Kat.
As they made their way back to camp she knew that within four days they would probably be near Volin.
Banyen and the men were asleep when they returned, exhausted from the tragic day. This was one day none of them would ever forget, not even the rough, hardened prisoners. She lay back by the fire, curling up to keep warm under her blanket. As her eyelids grew heavy, the thought of arriving in Volin comforted her. The thought of the steppe also made her feel a little better. She had cursed the flat, desolate plains during the winter for their endless snow and icy cold, and in the summer she had cursed them for their heat. This night Katerina found she loved the plains, their vast, barren emptiness. It would mean no hills, no rivers, no death. Straight ahead was Volin, waiting. The picture of home faded as her cinnamon eyes closed and the pain of the tragic day was lost in sleep.
Chapter 11
Katerina tried to force her eyes to remain open in the swirling storm, to no avail. It was up to her now, her and the lead horse. The Khan’s soldiers and Banyen couldn’t help her now. Their fate would be decided by the horse. She would have to trust to the animal’s blind instinct in getting to the pass. If Mikhailo had had the foresight to bring extra horses and sleighs to Volin, then he would have strung the pass with bells in anticipation of the heavy snows and her late arrival. Somewhere out there in the vast, all-consuming whiteness was the pass that would take her to the House of the Kat. She closed her eyes, the driving blizzard coating her thick lashes. She whispered encouraging words to the horse, aware that the animal couldn’t hear her in the blizzard that raged around them.
They rode for hours, the animals straining to pull their heavy burdens through the deep snow. Katerina sat huddled in the sleigh, her ermine cape and heavy fur rug pulled tightly around her. For the first time she felt the faint stirrings of panic. What if this mare that Mikhailo had brought missed the pass? She, Katerina Vaschenko, would be responsible for the deaths of all these men. How confident she had been! How glibly she had assured the Khan that she wouldn’t have any trouble getting back to the Carpathians. And she wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for her stupidity on the Kama. She paid for that daily. The presence of the Mongol was her reminder of it all. She felt his closeness in the sleigh they shared and was surprised that he made no snide remarks concerning the snow and the fact that they were two days overdue. Was that why he was quiet and not baiting her with his testy remarks about her abilities?
She was numb with cold, all feeling gone from her legs and feet. Dear God, help me, she prayed silently. Don’t let us freeze to death.
Through the loud winds she thought she heard the high, clear sound of a bell. Where did the sound come from? It couldn’t be from the horses’ harness;
the bells were too tiny, and the sound would be lost in the force of the driving wind. Katerina sat upright, and felt Banyen also straighten from his slumped position next to her. She stared into the white void of nothingness. It was a bell! Thank you, Mikhailo, she sighed. When the horse heard the bell he would know he was near the pass and close to home and a pail of oats. Once through the pass, he could find his way back to the House of the Kat blindfolded.
Squirming deeper into the fur lap robe, Katerina let her tired body relax. The snow was needle-sharp as it stung her face and beat against the sleigh. She was so tired, so very tired. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she knew that if she allowed herself the luxury she would never wake. She felt Banyen stir, trying to make himself more comfortable. Think about Prince Banyen, her mind shrieked, that will keep you awake. Think about that time on the steppe when he raped you and left you lying there with nothing more than a cape to cover your nakedness. Think about him sitting next to you. Think how it will feel when you finally get your revenge.
Her mind wandered as the horse strained and heaved to pull the heavy sleigh. The driving, pelting snow and ice were Banyen’s hands forcing her back, back, back, till she sprawled on the sable blanket. The force of the wind was his hot, searing breath as he leaned over her, closer, closer, always closer, till he smothered her with his heavy body. The fir tree overhead with its swinging, dipping branches, which beat against the sides of the sleigh, was his heaving, thrusting body. The low-slung branch that reached out its tentacles to strike her full force across the side of her head was her shock of pain. She screamed as she lurched and fell against Banyen.
Banyen reached out an arm protectively to grasp her slim body. His eyes took in the fallen branch, and his hand felt warm stickiness on the side of her face. Damnation, this was all he needed. His hands explored her face, roughly at first, and then more gently as he felt the gash on her cheek. How smooth and satiny her skin felt beneath the ermine hood. The thick lashes fluttered against his hand as he brushed her hair from the wound. “A limb from one of the firs dropped on you,” he said softly. “You were just stunned. Your animal has entered the pass, the bells are clear now, and the snow is not quite so thick.” He gathered her close, his hands inside the ermine cape encircling her body. How vulnerable she feels, how cold, how defenseless, he thought as he brought her nearer to him, his own cape open so that their bodies met in warmth. “An old Mongol custom—two bodies together for heat will allow us to survive,” he said huskily.
Katerina was too tired to resist, too weary to care, and she decided she liked the feel of him. For now, it was all that mattered. How gentle his hands were. For the first time in days she felt warm. She burrowed her head in his chest, her eyes sleepy and relaxed. She felt his hands cup her face gently as he lowered his face to hers. Katerina parted her lips as his full mouth settled possessively over hers. She felt light, soft nibbles against her lips. The pressure of his lips on hers was increasingly demanding, persuasive. Her breathing became his as he explored her moist mouth with his searching tongue. His hands on her body inside the fur cape were hypnotic, touching her intimately, spreading fire throughout her body. Her arms moved naturally to encircle his broad back, the black-tipped hood slipping from her head. She felt his hands cradle her head as her wealth of copper hair fell over their faces. His lips ground against hers hungrily as she eagerly gave him the sweetness of her mouth. She began to moan softly as his hands tantalized her with their gentle, sensuous caresses. The warm feel of his body and the rippling muscles beneath her hands so delighted her, she crushed her lips against his, demanding he return her ardor. Her heart pounded with exquisite torture as she heard him emit low animal groans of passion. His hard mouth was devouring her as his embrace became more urgent, more frantic. “I knew I could melt that cold, icy reserve of yours,” Banyen panted heavily as his mouth came down against hers, crushing her, driving the breath from her body.
The sleigh lurched as the words penetrated Katerina’s mind. Knew . . . he knew he could . . . ! “Damnable devil!” she screeched as she pushed with all her strength. Banyen was flung over the side of the sleigh into the swirling drifts. “Walk!” she screamed into the void. “If you try to get back in this sleigh I’ll kill you!”
Tears trickled down her reddened cheeks as she straightened her clothing and drew the ermine cape over her head. Her chest heaved at his remembered nearness, the feel of him. How could she have let it happen? How could she have been such a fool? She was tired and weary, numb with cold, she defended herself. Her defenses were down, she had been vulnerable, but thank God she had come to her senses. It wouldn’t happen again, she would make sure of that. For a brief moment the thought saddened her, and she quickly thrust it from her mind. There was no room in her life for men and passion. She had a mission to fulfill, and when she accomplished that . . .
Katerina wondered vaguely what time of day it was. Here in the pass, with the low-slung pine trees, it was too dark to tell if it was evening or late afternoon. It really doesn’t matter, she told herself. It was just something to think about so that the damn Mongol wouldn’t invade her thoughts again.
The sound of the bells was clear, more distinct. The worst of the storm must be nearing an end. The lead horse seemed to be going faster. Did it mean he was almost through the pass, or was the snow less deep? No, the storm was abating. She could see the horse’s broad back in the flurry of whiteness. She could even see the bells strung across the evergreen trees. “Another hour,” she shouted, “and you shall have the warmest blanket and the biggest pail of oats I can find!” The horse whickered in pleasure at her words. The matched blacks snorted and strained, their glossy hides snow-covered, making them look spectral in the dim light. Katerina had done it. She hadn’t let the snow defeat her, or bury her beneath its blanket of coldness. Banyen had been wrong. He had said they would die and it would be her fault. Wrong again, Mongol!
Banyen seethed and smoldered with anger as he trudged through the knee-deep snow. He clutched at the second sleigh in line to keep from falling. He stumbled along as the sleigh half dragged him through the deep snow. His arms felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets. By God, he would kill her the first chance he got. Damn the Khan and his orders! But first he would torture her and taste her body, he promised himself.
The storm seemed to be letting up, and he noted that the sound of the bells was clearer, more distinct. It couldn’t be much farther. He cursed Katerina and all Cossacks for their bloodthirsty ways. They were as bad as Czar Ivan. Thoughts of the Czar and how he planned to kill him kept Banyen going. Hatred could make a man endure and survive anything. Vengeance was a balm to the soul, food for the heart. He prayed that when the day arrived for him to kill the Czar, Ivan would be lucid. There would be no pleasure in killing an insane man.
As he trudged forward, he forced his mind to think of Ivan and the atrocities he had committed. The vision of his parents’ savage slaughter floated before his eyes. It was true that he had been a child at the time of their death, but it was a sight that would stay with him for the rest of his life. As he grew older, the Czar and his activities had become an obsession with him. He would ferret out any and all tales of the mad Czar and relish what he would do in retaliation. How could a man, a Czar, cut the eyes and tongues from people’s heads and laugh? How could a man, a Czar, string small children up by their feet so the swordsmen could practice, using their bodies as targets?
Perhaps the Czar’s insanity stemmed from his boyhood, when, it was said, he was sequestered with a dimwitted brother and a monk who tutored them. The story was told that Ivan blamed the boyars for his parents’ death, and when he had himself crowned Czar he began waging his war against those boyars whose power equaled his own.
Banyen’s mind filled with hatred for the man he had sworn to kill. It would be an act of goodness, for he would rid the world of an insane, murderous madman, whose touch wreaked havoc on all nations within his reach.
Just let him m
eet me face to face so I can drive my saber through his heart. “God, grant me Ivan is sane when vengeance is mine,” he muttered as he slipped in the snow, his mind not willing his feet to do his bidding. Regaining his position by clutching the sleigh, he failed to see the huge walls of the fortress looming in the distance. Each step was made with hatred and vengeance, hatred for Ivan, and hatred for Afstar’s niece. “God grant me the will, the strength to do what has to be done,” he muttered over and over as he continued his trek.
The lead horse snorted to show they were approaching the huge fortress known as the House of the Kat.
Katerina sat up straight, her eyes searching the dimness around her. They were home! We made it through the snow! she thought happily. Soon she would look upon her aging grandfather for the first time since the raid on Volin. How would he look, and how would he feel? Would he blame her?
The heavy, monstrous doors swung open, and the crimson sleigh, followed by the others, entered the deep cavernous underground stable. The tinkling bells on the horses’ harness sounded merry and cheerful in the dim, cold expanse.
Katerina clambered from the sleigh and wrapped her arms around Mikhailo and Stepan, who stood waiting with raised lanterns.
“So you thought I wouldn’t make it! Thank you, Mikhailo, for stringing the bells.”
The old man looked at the young woman with respect in his eyes. “I knew the snows would come early, my bones felt it. I was worried, and so was Stepan, who helped me.”
When all the sleighs had been placed side by side, and the horses taken to their stalls, the heavy doors were closed against the swirling, biting snow.
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